The guards flung the door open unexpectedly this time. In the split second it took for the knob to unlatch, a third idea formed, and impulsively, I transformed into the Maiden as two Chasseurs stepped through. Their eyes flew wide when they saw me. “Oh, please, messieurs!” I wrung my hands with a cry, pacing before the bars without touching them. “The witch—she tricked me. I’m a scullery maid upstairs, but while I was washing the linens, I heard a voice singing the most beautiful song.” I spoke quicker now, disliking the calculated gleam in the older one’s eyes. “I just had to follow it, messieurs—like some outside force compelled me to do it, like I was in a trance—and I didn’t wake until I’d unlocked the door and let her go. Please, please, let me out while the other still sleeps.” Gesturing to Reid on the floor, I allowed my lip to quiver and tears to spill down my cheeks. It was easier to feign distress than I’d anticipated. “I’m so sorry. You can dock my pay, you can relieve me of service, you can lash me, but please don’t let him hurt me.”

Though the younger looked likely to leap to my rescue, the older stilled him with a smile. It wasn’t a compassionate one. “Are you finished?”

I sniffed loudly. “Will you not help me?”

In two strides, he crossed the room to the circular table, rifling through the papers there. He pulled one from beneath a crucifix paperweight and held it to the light. Though sketched with rudimentary lines, the drawing portrayed my face—the Maiden’s face—well enough. My distraught expression fell flat as I leaned against the bars. My form reverted once more. “Good for you.”

“Yes,” he mused, examining me curiously. “It rather is. It seems you’ve inherited your mother’s gifts. His Majesty will be pleased to know it.”

“That—that’s La Dame des Sorcières’s daughter?”

“It appears she is La Dame des Sorcières now.”

The younger’s concern vanished instantly, replaced by what looked like awe. Perhaps a touch of fear. Of hunger. “We caught her?”

“You didn’t catch anyone.” My own fear sharpened my voice. I pushed it down. The others would come. They would. “May I inquire as to the time?”

The older replaced the picture before approaching the cage. Though he kept his posture casual, sweat had collected along his upper lip. I made him nervous. Good. “You can ask. I won’t answer, though. Better to watch you squirm.” When I thrust my face at the bars, swift and sudden, he stumbled backward. To his credit, he didn’t curse, instead clutching his chest with a low chuckle.

“Shall we inject it?” The younger drew fresh syringes from his coat. “Teach it a lesson?”